


Pointless Talking

by ItsGatsbyNotGatz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, a little angsty sorry boys, eventually, ill end up updating these tags as i go oop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsGatsbyNotGatz/pseuds/ItsGatsbyNotGatz
Summary: Daichi Sawamura moved to an amazing school for volleyball as a kid. Now, he’s a A+ student, the ace of his college volleyball team, and all around good guy.Koushi Sugawara is what’s left behind.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	1. Strawberry Lipgloss

**Author's Note:**

> i’m- okay so listen. i haven’t done a haikyuu fic yet and i also know that i post completely irregularly and also that i got my doctorate in angst. i promise it has a happy ending though or else i’d get sad too

Daichi has never been a huge partygoer. He focused on his studies, on his volleyball practice, on hanging out with his friends outside of situations that involved intoxicated college students. So he isn’t sure how he ended up here, on a suspiciously stained couch holding a cup of something that, while Asahi had insisted it wasn’t alcohol, smelled a lot like cheap vodka. Daichi was debating whether to try it or just leave when the couch next to him dipped down with the added weight of someone throwing themselves on it.

Daichi had looked up instinctively, eyes drawn to movement and the sigh that escaped the stranger’s lips, but he’d found himself unable to look away. Absolutely gorgeous silver hair framed an even prettier face, eyes closed and long lashes resting on pink cheeks. Daichi has never felt so gay in his life and he forces himself not to follow the line of the other boy’s throat when he tosses his head back. One eye opens and looks him over before closing again.

“Kou,” he says, “but for the right price you can call me anything you’d like.” Daichi’s face erupts into unbelievable heat and he shakes his head and stutters out an explanation.

“No, I- I didn’t mean- sorry to stare, it’s just- well-“ Kou laughs, bright and clear in the dim room. He opens his eyes and turns to face Daichi completely.

“Relax. I didn’t really mean it.” He gives him a slow once over, and Daichi fights the urge to shiver. “First time?” It takes him a second to recognise the question, but he nods when he does.

“Yeah. I’m not really a fan of parties.” Kou hums and leans back. He pulls out a small pack of cigarettes, holding one up to his lips.

“You don’t mind, do you?” But the sentiment is empty, because he’s lit it before Daichi has time to answer. He winces as he watches Kou breathe the smoke out through his nose. He’s never liked cigarettes, never liked smokers, but Kou almost looks… well, he’s not sure, actually. He turns it down when it’s offered to him.

“Those things’ll kill you, you know.” Kou shrugs, breathes out again with a wrinkle of his nose.

“Yeah, well. Better these than anything else.” Daichi doesn’t ask what he means. He keeps his eyes on his drink, tries to ignore the way Kou’s gaze keeps his face burning. Finally, he finishes his smoke and tucks the remainder into the box. He stands, drawing Daichi’s attention again, and grabs his cup to drink from it.

“Well. You’ve been amazing company…?” He flinches, can't believe he forgot his manners.

“Daichi Sawamura,” he manages. Kou nods.

“See you around, Sawamura,” he says, and then he’s gone, disappeared into the crowd as easily as he came.

It’s only when he sees the mark on his cup an hour later does he realise that Kou was wearing lipgloss.

Daichi starts coming to more parties. Most of his friends are thrilled; Tanaka jokes that he must have seen a cute girl or something. Daichi doesn’t correct him. He hopes to see Kou again, and sometimes he does, finds him doing lines in the bathroom or taking a tab of something from a stranger’s fingertips. He always sits with Daichi after though, always drinks from his cup and leaves lipgloss marks on the edge. He’s asked for some of whatever Kou’s having before, a last ditch effort to try and bridge a gap between them, but he always gets nudged out of the room with a laugh and a “You don’t want to be like me, Sawamura.”

And, yeah, that’s fair. He doesn’t really wanna be some drugged up party goer, doesn’t want to risk his grades or disappoint his parents, but Kou always looks so at peace. He never looks worried, except for the odd glance he gives Daichi when he thinks he isn’t looking. Honestly, Daichi wants to feel like that. He wants to feel like Kou looks, calm and pretty and wonderful. Which is dumb, he obviously doesn’t need drugs to be calm or happy; he just can’t help feeling like it would help. And apparently Kou’s resolve isn’t as strong as he thought.

“Listen, I’ll only do it this once, okay? Please, Kou?” Kou sighs, and Daichi is fully prepared for the negative answer that’s sure to follow.

“Fine.” Kou stands, grabbing Daichi’s hand to pull him off the couch. “You really wanna do it that bad? Fine. I’m tired of you asking.” He leads him upstairs into an empty bedroom and locks the door behind them. He shoves him to sit on the bed and stands between his legs. “Open,” he tells him, and Daichi tries to ignore how many different ways this could go, prefers keeping his face red if it means that’s where the blood stays. He opens his mouth, watches Kou’s face fall as he sets some sort of pill in his mouth. He swallows it dry.

He feels the same for a while, but Kou’s eyes don’t leave him. He looks more worried than Daichi’s ever seen him. It’s fine, he thinks, if Kou looks at him because he likes it when he does, and anyway the little mole by his eye is currently very interesting.

“You’re pretty, Kou.”

Kou laughs at that, light and tingly.

“You must be pretty fucked up already to think something like that, Sawamura.” He turns away from him to light a cigarette. He looks like he’s blushing but Daichi can’t be sure it isn’t just the heat in the room.

“No, I- I mean it!” He stops to pull his shirt off; it really is unbearably hot. “You’re always so pretty, and you have nice… lipgloss.” Kou shoots him a strange look.

“You alright?” He’s moved farther away. Daichi doesn’t like that; he’s usually much closer and why can’t he be close right now, when he wouldn’t mind so much? Well, not that he minds usually, but…

“Yo, Sawamura. I asked if you were alright.” Daichi refocuses, isn’t sure when his vision blurred, and Kou is much closer now, his fingers skirting along Daichi’s jawline. He can almost taste the cheap liquor on Kou’s tongue. He can certainly smell his lipgloss- strawberry scented. He wonders if it tastes like strawberries too, and when he laughs it sounds far away, not at all clear like Kou’s worried voice and oh, isn’t Daichi so stupid for waiting so long to feel like this, especially with Kou, who looks very pretty when he’s worried. Daichi isn’t sure what there is to worry about, so he kisses him.

And, yeah. Kou does taste like strawberries.

Only at first though, because when he opens his mouth it gives way to bitterness, rubbing-alcohol-strong vodka and the cigarette that’s still hanging from his fingers. The smoke taste isn’t all as bad as Daichi thought, and he doesn’t get to think much about it when Kou tangles his long fingers in his hair. He vaguely recognises that he’ll smell like cigarettes when he comes home and that Kuroo will scold him for it, just like he has every other night when Kou’s too-close smoking has clung to him and inevitably, his dorm room. For now, though, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Kou’s lips are soft and sweet and his mouth is warm and he makes a really pretty sound if Daichi bites at him.

And then he’s gone. Daichi opens his eyes to meet Kou’s, expecting to find him grinning and breathless because that’s what Daichi is, but he’s not. He’s crying, lipgloss smeared across his mouth like a curse, and he looks so, _so_ angry. He’s never seen Kou angry.

“Don’t- don’t ask me to do this again, Sawamura-san.” The formality that’s been tacked on cuts deep, even if he isn’t sure why.

Kou leaves then. Leaves his cigarette smouldering out on this stranger’s nightstand. Leaves Daichi with bitter strawberry in his mouth. Leaves his head spinning and his heart racing. Leaves him… sad? Confused? He isn’t sure.

He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until someone in the living room points it out.

The next day is absolutely terrible. His head hurts, and Kuroo informs him (quite loudly) that Asahi had carried him back to the room after he’d apparently out-drank Tanaka, where he’d proceeded to sob openly about strawberry lipgloss for the next three hours.

Daichi is sure he’ll never live this down.

Kuroo, proclaiming himself the kindest roomie ever who definitely isn’t going to hold this over him, ends up bringing Daichi lunch. He’d slept through breakfast, and his grilled cheese is suddenly the best meal in the world. For all Kuroo’s teasing about whichever girl he “couldn’t get it up for last night”, he’d have to be an idiot, blind, or both to miss the worried look on his face. Finally, he goes quiet.

“You know,” Kuroo eventually starts, picking at a loose thread in Daichi’s blanket, “maybe you should stay away from those parties for a while.” Daichi doesn’t answer, just swipes a finger through the crumbs on his lap. “I mean it, man. You always look like shit when you come home, and you smell like cigarettes, and I- it really- it’s not you, Daichi.”

The concern would be touching if it didn’t piss him off.

“And what if it is me?” He asks quietly. He isn’t sure he’s up for a fight, but he’s just so angry at something, and Kuroo is here, so.

“Daichi, I’ve known you for like five years and you’re not-“

“I’m not what?” His voice is loud. Too loud. He knows it from the ringing in his ears and the way Kuroo flinches. “Not fun? Not a party kind of guy? Maybe I am. Maybe I want to be. So what? It’s none of your fucking business.”

Kuroo is quiet as he gets off the bed. He’s quiet as he changes and packs a backpack. Daichi knows he overstepped; he knew it the second the words left his mouth.

“Kuroo, wait, I-“

“I know.” His roommate hesitates at the door, and for a second Daichi thinks he won’t leave at all, but he just scoops his charger off his bed and opens it anyway. “Whatever’s going on with you, I’m here. Asahi is. Tanaka is. Nishinoya is.” Kuroo shrugs. “I just thought you’d trust me to help you. Whatever, I, uh. I told Kenma I’d spend the night with him anyway.” And then he’s gone too.

Daichi stares at the crumbs in his lap. First Kou, and now Kuroo, and surely Asahi is more than a little upset… He’s not sure what he did wrong. But he’s good at this, at thinking through things (usually). So he stops, goes over everything that’s happened in the last weeks, and he settles on one outlier, one single independent variable. Kou. He doesn’t have a full name, he doesn’t have a number, he doesn’t even know if he’s actually a student at the university. But there’s another party tonight, so he goes.

Kou isn’t there.

But his usual dealer is, so Daichi talks to him. He takes more than casual conversation and he feels like shit the next day. It doesn’t matter. He’d felt better than he’d felt in a while, even if the mouth that ended up on his wasn’t Kou’s, even if the fingers slipping him tabs of… something aren’t Kou’s, even if the lipgloss mark on his hip isn’t Kou’s signature strawberry. It’s fine, he thinks, they aren’t official anyway and they only kissed once. So it’s fine, Daichi thinks, that he goes back to the parties and he takes anything anyone is willing to give him for as cheap as he can get it, even if “cheap” leaves him sore in the morning or with someone else’s lipgloss smeared across his mouth.

Kou is never there, anymore.

He lies to himself that he keeps going in the hopes that he’ll see him. He ignores his slowly slipping grades and his friends’ concerned looks and Kuroo’s questions. He ignores it all for the taste of dissolving pills and cheap weed and strawberry vodka. Yeah, the vodka didn’t taste the same as Kou, but it was close enough. As close as he could get.

He doesn’t know the last time he saw Kou. He isn’t sure it matters anymore.

Daichi credits himself on one thing only: a needle only ever pierced his arm once. The high only made him sad. He hasn’t seen Kou in so long…

Three months, eleven days, six hours. Kou is the only thing Daichi thinks of when he’s high. He’d probably be all he thought of sober, but he isn’t sure when that last was. He wonders if this is how Kou feels, usually. Felt? Does he get high anymore? Does he even go to parties? Daichi doesn’t know. He misses him. So much.

Four months. Four months since he saw him last. Five since they met. Daichi wonders if he fucked up.

It’s four months, thirteen days, and two hours until he sees Kou again.

In fact, Kou is one of the only things he _can_ see. He’s busy pulling Daichi off the bathroom floor. He’s strong, stronger than Daichi thought, and he smells like strawberries.

“Jesus Christ, Sawamura… I told you…” Daichi thinks maybe it’s okay to close his eyes and take a nap for a little while, since Kou is here and that means everything is going to be alright. Kou wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

“Sawamura. Hey, I need you to wake up. Sawamura?” That’s Kou’s voice. Daichi would recognise it anywhere. But… he’s so tired… just a few more minutes is fine, right?

“Get the fuck up, Daichi.” Not Kou. Or, well, maybe it is, but he’s so angry and that’s his first name and when he says it again, it’s definitely Kou so he opens his eyes. Kou looks angrier than he’s ever seen him. “What the fuck did you take?” Daichi shrugs. He isn’t sure; he doesn’t ask. Kou groans and punches him in the stomach. “You’re an idiot.” He isn’t sure if it’s the harsh words or the punch to the gut (though it’s probably the latter) but suddenly he’s throwing up on Kou and, damn, the boy barely flinches.

“How did you…?”

“Kuroo told me. He asked me what was the matter with you and I told him I hadn’t seen you and he told me where you were gonna be tonight. God, Daichi…” Kou’s voice turns tender as he brushes his hair back. He gets up then, pulls his shirt and pants off and balls them up as he goes into the bathroom. He comes back with a washcloth and wipes Daichi’s face. They’re both quiet for an uncomfortably long time.

“What’s your name? Your real one,” Daichi finally asks. Kou looks hurt at the question.

“Koushi,” he answers carefully. Daichi shakes his head.

“Your whole one. I wanna be able to find you again.” Koushi is silent in a way that makes Daichi thinks he’s offended him. He doesn’t want to ask again, but…

“Sugawara.” Koushi is soft when he says it. Daichi knows that name, he knows it, it’s so-

“Suga?” Koushi flinches and pulls back. “Suga, I-“

“Don’t call me that,” he says, voice quiet. “You don’t- you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Oh, but any random stranger can call you by your first name? You just let anybody call you ‘Kou’?”

Koushi curls his hands into fists, tight and white knuckled as he stands. He looks like he might hit him again before he relaxes.

“Not- not anybody. _You,_ Daichi. I thought- I thought you’d remember… me…” And then he’s crying, and Daichi feels more sober than he has in weeks. He does. He does remember, especially what with the tears streaming down his old best friend’s face. How could he not, when it’s the way he’d looked right before Daichi moved? “You- you just moved without any warning, and you- I know our team wasn’t good, and we just- we were just _kids_ but I- you just left me behind, Daichi.” Wow. Yeah, that still hurts, even twelve years later.

“I didn’t…” Daichi flounders for something to say, something to make it all better and- “I bought you lipgloss. I ‘unno if it’s good but it’s your favourite flavour. It’s strawberry an’ it’s pretty so-“ he keeps rambling about the stupid lipgloss, like it matters at all. It doesn’t. He knows it doesn’t. So why is that all he can say? “It’s in my desk drawer-“

“Will you shut up about the _fucking_ lipgloss?!” Koushi is nearly shouting. “Who cares about the lipgloss? I don’t even- it’s for you! It’s only strawberry because that’s _your_ favourite flavour!” Daichi blinks. “God, you’re so dense sometimes. You posted that you went here so I… I kept going to these parties because I hoped I’d see you but I- you weren’t there.”

“I am now.” It’s Daichi’s first coherent sentence of the night. Good for him. “But I don’t understand why it matters so much. Why would you go to all that trouble for me?” Koushi looks at him like he asked what colour the sky was.

“You really are an idiot.” With that, he grabs his clothes and turns to leave the room. Daichi cries out. He doesn’t want to lose Koushi, not again, so he grabs his wrist. Koushi yanks it away and glares at him. Still scary… “I looked for you because I loved you. I didn’t have to be an adult to know that. All that college and you still couldn’t figure it out.” There’s really nothing Daichi can do to stop him leaving this time, so he doesn’t. He just watches him go, and still all he can think about is his drawer with that damn strawberry lipgloss in it.


	2. Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koushi knows he’s not worth Daichi’s affection. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally thought i posted chapter one like two weeks ago. :/

_ Idiot.  _

Of course Daichi wouldn’t remember him. He’d left years ago, had just left Koushi behind in their stupid little town just to go play volleyball. And, yeah, maybe it was a little selfish of Koushi to be resentful of him for something like that, but…

He flopped down on Tooru’s bed when he made it back to his shared apartment. He still kinda smelled like vomit and he didn’t want that in his sheets. He stayed there for a while fighting the urge to scream into the pillows before there was a knock in the doorway. He opened an eye to glance at them, seriously hoping it wasn’t Tooru. He could not deal with him yet. But no, it was Keiji, looking at him with thinly veiled concern. 

“Sawamura?” He asked, far too observant for his own good. Koushi groaned in response and turned away from him. He felt the bed dip down behind him as Keiji sat. “You smell terrible.” He really had to fight the urge to scream this time. 

“He threw up on me.” He didn’t miss the snort that Keiji gave and rudely did not try to hide. He sat up to face him. “It’s not funny, Keiji! I really thought he’d remember me…” He can't bring himself to look his friend in the eye. It doesn’t matter much, though, because Keiji just pulls him into his shoulder in a tight hug. Koushi honestly thought there wasn’t anything left in him to cry out. He was wrong. 

“You’re really just going to town on soaking my shirt.” It’s Keiji’s best and most awkward attempt to make Koushi laugh, and it would work if he didn’t feel like shit about the whole thing. He really smells awful and he’s sobbing into his friend’s probably freshly cleaned shirt and he can see hear Tooru fumbling around in the kitchen and  _ fuck  _ he’s not ready for the “I told you so” lecture. 

“Kou-chan!!” Tooru bursts in before Koushi has any time at all to pull himself together and immediately wrinkles his nose. “Oh no. Sawamura let you down?”

“Tooru…” Keiji’s tone is warning, but Tooru is famously a dumbass. 

“See? I told you your fancy college volleyball boy wasn’t gonna meet your standards.” Jesus fucking christ. It’s like he never thinks at all, and Keiji opens his mouth, presumably to tell him so, but he gets cut off. “But that doesn’t give him the right to treat you like shit,” Tooru says, sinking onto the bed to lean against them and sandwich Koushi between them. Somehow this is almost worse than a lecture because now he’s crying harder. For once, Tooru doesn’t say anything, just provides more warmth as Koushi sobs more into Keiji’s shoulder. 

It’s dumb. The whole situation is utter shit. But there’s really nothing he can do other than sit here in his underwear on this bed with alien sheets crying between his two best friends. And he’s crying over a boy from twelve years ago no less. Koushi’s never felt like such an idiot before. 

“Did you puke or something? You need a fucking shower.” Ah, there’s Tooru, deciding to break the moment. He’s right though for once, so Koushi pulls out of the embrace and shuffles into the bathroom. He passes Tobio in the hall and idly rubs a hand through his hair. The younger boy looks confused but doesn’t question the tear stains on Koushi’s face. 

“Um, I brought takeout home for dinner. When you’re finished showering,” he manages. Tobio hasn’t been living here as long, but Koushi is grateful for him, especially now. He tries his best and- oh, there go his tears again. He wipes at them furiously. 

“How was practice?” Tobio shrugs. “Come on, nothing interesting?” Koushi’s main mission has been getting him to talk more but it’s slow going at best. 

“Well, Daichi hasn’t been coming to play so Kuroo keeps having to be captain,” Tobio says slowly. Once he’d found out that his Daichi was the same as Koushi’s Daichi, he’d been extra careful to hardly mention him. Recently, he’d been too worried about Daichi to really hold back saying anything. “Hinata is still irritating, but he’s figured out how to do this thing where-“ Tobio starts rambling on then, something he only ever does when he talks about the short little middle blocker on his team. It makes Koushi smile to see him so excited. Eventually, though, the smell of stale vomit starts getting to him and he has to cut him off to get in the shower. 

The water is warm and soothing, but in here there’s no noisy roommates to distract him from the ache in his chest. Daichi… hadn't actually remembered him. Well, technically he had, but only after he’d heard his full name. And that had hurt.

Bad. 

Whenever they were kids, Daichi had never shut up about the different colour of his hair or the birthmark under his eye, always promising him he was unforgettable and special. Promising he wouldn’t forget about him when he left. Promising to write. 

Apparently Daichi wasn’t a man of his word. 

Once he’d moved, Koushi had never heard from him again. He’d only ever gotten one letter, from Daichi’s mom- a picture of Daichi holding a trophy from some big game his team had won, grinning huge, and a short letter saying he was doing fine. It said he missed Koushi but… he didn’t look it. 

Koushi still had that picture, tucked away in his memory box, and he used to look at it every day. He had had more, taken from Instagram posts and online articles, but he’d thrown them out when Tobio had pointed out that it seemed a little stalker-y. He was considering getting rid of the one he had left. 

Koushi sighs, finally reaching for his shampoo. He ignores the last few tears streaking down his face as he rakes his nails across his scalp. Daichi had looked so lost as he’d left. That wasn’t Koushi’s fault. He supposed it could be; he was the one that gave Daichi drugs to start with. 

He shook his head, rubbing soap and water out of his eyes. That wasn’t right. He did do that, but it isn’t his fault that he tried so many others. It wasn’t Koushi who fed him drink after drink. He knows that. He’s just worried that Daichi won’t stop. 

Tobio’s takeout was good. He’d brought home something incredibly spicy, like he’d known Koushi would need it. Tooru complained about it, whining that his sweet tooth was suffering and under attack. He stopped pouting when Keiji got up and declared he would make brownies. It was all so ordinary. It eased the ache in Koushi’s chest and by the time they were all curled on the couch eating gooey brownies watching a horror movie (it was Keiji’s turn to pick), he almost felt like nothing had happened at all.

It was all fine until Tobio’s phone rang, and he answered it with a startled, “Captain?” before removing himself from the couch. If Tooru noticed Koushi leaning into him a little heavier, he didn’t mention it. He doesn’t even give a snarky remark when Tobio comes back and offers him the phone. 

“He said he wants to talk to you.”

Koushi stares at it for a moment. He almost turns it down, but…

He takes it. He takes the phone and disappoints himself and probably every ancestor he has and definitely Keiji. Koushi excuses himself outside, to the only place where he knows he won’t be spied on. 

“What do you want?” He asks, and he sounds more tired than he expected. The other side of the phone is quiet for so long he’d think Daichi had hung up if not for the soft breathing he hears. “If you’re gonna call my roommate looking for me, you might as well spit out whatever it is you wanted to say.” Finally, he gets an answer. 

“I just- I’m sorry. I do remember you, of course I do. How could I- how could I not?” Daichi is quiet for a moment. Koushi knows he should say something, should call him out, but the words get stuck in his throat with the tears that refuse to fall. “You’ve gotten so, so pretty Suga.”

“No.” Koushi finds his voice. “Don’t call me that.” It’s not really what he wants to say. He wants to beg him to call him Kou again. He wants Daichi to say his name the way he did when he found him absolutely off his shits on the bathroom floor. He wants him to say his name the way he did when they kissed. He wants-

“What should I call you then?” 

He can’t have it. Koushi can’t have any of that and he knows it, but God, he wants it so bad. He feels like an idiot for wanting it. He isn’t ten years old anymore; he knows Daichi isn’t gonna reappear in his life to fix everything and sweep him off his feet. Life doesn’t work that way. Daichi doesn’t work that way. Daichi is the perfect student, perfect player, perfect son. Koushi is the disappointment, the drop out, and the drug addict. He shouldn’t be lecturing Daichi about being out of his mind on who knows what when he practically had done the same exact thing to even be able to lift him up off the floor. 

“Don’t call me anything. Honestly, Daichi? I really don’t wanna see you again.” It takes all the strength in Koushi’s body to keep his voice steady. He’s coming down, and he’s still emotional from earlier, and hearing Daichi’s tin voice over the phone hasn’t helped at all. He can’t be crying when he gives Tobio his phone back, he just can’t. “Don’t call Tobio for this again. And I’d honestly prefer if you left me alone in public too. just- please. Leave me alone, Daichi.” And with that, he hangs up the phone. Koushi takes one deep shuddering breath before he goes back inside. The phone rings again as he’s handing it back to Tobio, but he hits decline. The movie is only halfway through, but he goes to bed anyway. Everything feels like way too much right now, and surely if he went to bed it would all be better tomorrow. 

Things are not better tomorrow. They’re never better tomorrow. Koushi isn’t sure why he tries anymore. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

Koushi thinks maybe if he tells himself enough, it’ll come true. Whatever. 

He’s got a shift this morning at the bakery, so he grabs a bottle at random from his nightstand and takes whatever is in it. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

The women at the bakery are always so sweet. They always ask for the same breads for the week. The only thing that changes is their breakfast order. Sometimes it’s a fruit pastry, other times a chocolate. This morning it’s just a plain buttered croissant. He has to ask her to repeat it. The buttons on the register are blurring together a little bit. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

He hands it to her and gives her her usual chai tea. She smiles at him, starts up a conversation about nothing at all to fill up the silence of the otherwise empty bakery. He tries to ignore the look of pity she gets every time he falters in his responses. This woman in particular had slid him a number several months back, said the man it belonged to was a wonderful sponsor. He’d only called once and hung up immediately. It’s not what he needs right now, he thinks. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

“How have you been, Suga?” She reaches a hand across the counter to cover his own, finally finished with her story about her daughter’s new baby. He resists the urge to pull back. 

“I’m fine,” he says, and his voice feels tight. He tries his best smile, ignoring the look of worry on her face or the tightening of her hand on his. “Really, ma’am,” Koushi tries again, “I’m alright.” The bell of the door rings, and he’s grateful to see that it isn’t one of the chatty regulars. The woman removes her hand and gives him one last sad look before she bids him goodbye. Fortunately, the new customer doesn’t seem to want to talk to him aside from his short order. Koushi avoids looking at his face until he asks for the name for the order. 

“Kuroo.” Koushi’s gaze shoots up and, ah, shit. He’d really hoped there was a completely different Kuroo, a short blonde one maybe, the complete opposite of the one standing in front of Koushi with his arms crossed and who was definitely Daichi’s co-captain and roommate. 

“Oh. It’s you,” Koushi says, ever a man of elegance. Kuroo wrinkles his nose. So maybe that wasn’t the right way to greet him. Oops. 

“Yeah. Can I just get our coffee and go?” Koushi starts to ask who the other person- people; he just realises he’s got four coffees to make, good lord- are, but Kuroo jabs a finger over his shoulder. There's huge glass windows along the front of the shop and outside of them stands Daichi, one guy he’s sure he’s seen at a couple parties with spiked hair, and another guy who’s very interested in whatever he’s playing on his phone. Daichi looks like shit. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

Koushi nods and rings him up. He makes their coffee like he’s on autopilot. When he hands it all to Kuroo, Koushi’s just as surprised as he is to find that he’s also handed over a little paper bag. 

“What is-“ Kuroo looks inside the bag before Koushi has a chance to pull it back. “What is this, blueberry?”

“Blueberry spiced oat,” Koushi says. His heart sinks. “It- it was Daichi’s favourite growing up, I didn’t- I’ll take it back. I wasn’t paying attention.” Kuroo looks at him for a while, for way too long and Koushi hates it. He can’t tell if he’s judging him or pitying him. Either way he wants him to stop. “Listen, don’t worry about it just- you can go I don’t need-“

“Hey, man. Relax. He could use a muffin.” Kuroo shrugs. “I won’t tell him it’s from you, I’ll just say I picked a random one. I don’t think he’s eaten in like, two days.” Koushi’s eyes flit back over Kuroo’s shoulder at Daichi. He looks like shit, but… he seems happy otherwise. 

“He’s fine.” Kuroo draws his attention back. He waves his hand and almost drops the muffin. “He’s been clean for a couple days. I think he was just sad. Not really the addictive type, I guess.” Koushi shrinks back behind the counter and prays for another customer. He doesn’t wanna hear about how he almost ruined Daichi’s life. “Actually, you know what?” Kuroo sets everything down on the counter and reaches for a napkin and digs a pen out of his pocket. He scribbles down a number and a name. Koushi struggles to read it upside down. “There. If you ever need anything, Daichi related or otherwise, you can call him. Tanaka’s got a big mouth, but he knows when to keep it shut.” Kuroo gives him a look and Koushi knows exactly what the “otherwise” is. 

But he pockets the napkin anyway and mumbles a thanks before Kuroo is out the door. He tries not to watch Daichi light up when he bites into the muffin. He looks so happy… 

He can’t ruin that. 

Koushi spends the rest of his shift trying to ignore the growing ache in his heart. 

Tooru is in the middle of some loud unimportant argument with Tobio when he gets home. Whatever it is can’t be that important by the way Keiji’s just watching from the couch. They’ve paused whatever movie they’re watching- Lilo and Stitch. Ah, the alien argument. 

Koushi flops himself down on the couch next to Keiji. Tonight’s argument is a little more heated than usual (he’s pretty sure Tooru is drunk), but Keiji just watches. 

“Brownies in the kitchen,” he mumbles, and suddenly it all makes sense. Koushi gets away with being high all the time only because everyone else in the apartment is either the biggest pothead he knows (Keiji and surprisingly, Tobio) or constantly at least a little drunk (Tooru). Of course, none of them are ever drinking or smoking at school or work, and Koushi doesn’t let them know he doesn’t remember the last time he was sober. Don’t ask, don’t tell. 

It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. 

Tooru’s argument tonight seems to be that there’s no reason Stitch would change his behaviour for some “punk ass seven year old” and Tobio is under the impression that it doesn’t matter what Tooru thinks because aliens are real but they look just like people. Koushi has no fucking clue how they’re having an argument about two completely different things. 

Keiji hands him a brownie, and twenty minutes later he’s pretty sure he’s on Tobio’s side. 

Another ten minutes and the argument is just annoying, so Koushi makes it off the couch and stumbles into his room instead. He isn’t sure what he came in here for, but his hands end up pulling out his memory box and out of it, his last picture of Daichi. Daichi looks so cute here, so young and happy. Koushi sort of remembers feeling like that. Or maybe he’s just lightheaded. He keeps just staring at the picture, trying to remember a time when he felt like he was the only thing in Daichi’s world because Daichi was the only thing in his. He’d like to feel like that again. He wants it so badly. He makes his way into Tobio’s room, finds his phone on the nightstand and stares at the lockscreen. What’s his password? Koushi tries a couple volleyball terms first, each one wrong. Tobio’s lockscreen of a bright eyed boy mid-jump makes him pause. He tries again, gets it right (“Hinata”. What a lovesick little nerd) and scrolls through his contacts. Tobio’s got more than he expected, and Koushi gets distracted looking for what he wants. When he finally finds it, he jabs it with his finger without a second thought and ignores the fact that he didn’t need to tap that hard. 

The phone rings once, twice, and picks up on the third. 

“Kageyama? What’s wrong, it’s kinda late to be calling, isn’t it?” Daichi sounds a little tired. Koushi wonders if he woke him up and forgets to speak. “Kageyama?” He sounds more worried now. “Kageyama, are you okay?” Koushi finds his voice as Daichi grows more concerned over the line. 

“He’s fine. Are you fine? Of course you are, that’s not what I-“

“Sugawara.” Daichi’s voice is tighter now, colder. Koushi stops his rambling. That’s… not how he thought he’d sound. Shouldn’t Daichi be happy? Didn’t he miss him? Koushi missed him. He was thirsty, too. He took a drink of whatever was in the cup by Tobio’s bed. Well, it’s certainly not water. Hm. 

“What do you want?” Daichi’s voice brings him back to the task at hand. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” Koushi’s heart hurts at the silence following his question. It feels like it’s been years since he heard Daichi say anything. 

“What- Sugawara…”

“You never wrote,” Koushi whines. “You said you’d write. Said you’d call…” No, that’s- that’s not why Koushi called. He goes into the kitchen. His head hurts. He’s thinking too much about the call and Tooru has very kindly left the last of his drink on the counter. Koushi finishes it and pours himself another. “Said you’d miss me. Did you miss me?”

“Wh- of course I missed you. You were my best friend, Suga.”

“I told you not to call me that.” He hears Daichi start to sigh an apology, but he doesn’t wanna hear it. He just groans instead and sets the bottle down. How long has it been empty…? “I wanna hear you say my name again. I liked how you said it, before I told you it was me. ‘Cause you didn’t remember. You didn’t. You said you’d never forget. Say it, Daichi.” Koushi makes his way back to his room. He can hear Keiji joining the argument in the living room. 

“I don’t think-“

“Say it, Daichi.” Koushi flops down on his bed and puts the phone on speaker. His clothes are too tight, too scratchy, so he pulls them off. The cool air of his room feels good on his skin. “Say my name for me.” The line is quiet for a moment, and he can practically see Daichi rubbing his face in frustration. Whatever. 

“Kou… Koushi,” Daichi says,  _ finally,  _ Koushi practically cries hearing it. 

“Say it again, Daichi, please,” he begs. His skin feels hot. Koushi kicks his underwear off and slides a hand down his stomach. 

“Koushi… are you okay?” Daichi’s voice sounds wonderful over the phone. It’s low, deepened with concern and Koushi is practically glowing knowing that it’s for him. Daichi is worried about him, cares about him, thinking about him. It’s so wonderful. “Koushi?” He hears movement on the line, sheets rustling. Oh, Daichi is in bed. Was. He must be getting up. Koushi’s hand is around his cock before he really has the chance to think about it. 

“I’m fine, Daichi. I’m good. I’m so good, Daichi,” he babbles, and there’s more movement, more sound, the sound of a sink running, of a door closing. 

“Where are you, Koushi? Let me come to you.” Daichi sounds so worried. That’s so sweet, that he’s so worried. It makes Koushi’s whole body feel light. He laughs. 

“Let you come to me… You don’t have to, Daichi. I’m fine, I’m really-  _ oh, _ ” Koushi gasps as he dips his fingers lower. He doesn’t care to bite back the small moan that falls from his lips. He hears Daichi’s breath hitch. 

“Koushi, what…” His voice is lower, softer. Koushi wants more of it. 

“Like that, Daichi. Say my name like that again. Tell me you love me, Daichi? Say it for me?” Koushi’s so close. He’s so close and if Daichi would just say it…

“Koushi… that I love you?” There it is. Koushi cums with Daichi’s name on his lips and his toes curling in the sheets. 

“Daichi, I-“

“I can’t say that to you, Koushi. I can't say it and mean it.” Koushi stops. Daichi sounds so sorry, so apologetic and no, no no no,  _ no,  _ he can’t- 

“I like you, Koushi. You’re my friend. And you’re pretty. But I- I don’t- I can’t tell you that I love you. I don’t, Koushi. Not like that. I’m sorry, but… please don’t ask me to do this again.” Koushi’s face is soaked with burning tears. 

“Daichi, I-“

“I mean it. I’m sorry, just- not this. Goodbye, Sugawara.” The lines goes dead. 

Koushi is left sticky and tear stained, heartbroken on his bed. Everyone has stopped arguing in the living room, or maybe he just can’t hear them anymore. He’s messed up. He ruined everything, even if he didn’t want Daichi back in his life in the first place. 

_ Shit.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don’t know who you’re supposed to feel bad for either please don’t ask

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i’ll have the next chapter up,,,,,,,eventually,,,,,,


End file.
